A gale arises from the wind of the mountain and the crimson flow, colliding and swirling together.
A spectacle such as this, which would normally require the combined efforts of several wizards from the mage tower, was now surging around a single greatsword.
“This is Helvint!”
“He’s lost his mind.”
“Hmph.”
The exclamations rippling through the crowd of spectators and nobles were solely in awe of Roengreen’s prowess.
As for Isaac, who stood before him, there was little to no mention.
“Miss, what do you think?”
Anna asked Silbern, expecting some insight, knowing that Silbern had once defeated Roengreen in battle several years ago.
“…Completely… different.”
Silbern frankly thought that he had transformed entirely. Roengreen’s sword technique had grown several times stronger since the days she had bested him. Indeed, his crimson greatsword now lived up to the name Helvint.
This growth stemmed from Roengreen’s insatiable desire for recognition.
The wish to win back the approval of the father who always looked at him with disappointed eyes, coupled with the fear of losing his place to his younger sister, relentlessly spurred Roengreen on.
‘How do you find me, Father?’
Roengreen’s gaze turned towards Arandel.
Even though his current opponent was somewhat lacking, the name Helvint did not allow for mere victory alone.
It demanded overwhelming force—violence that inspired awe simply by being witnessed. A truly great Helvint would command reverence.
Thus, the applause from the audience that reached Roengreen’s ears brought a smile to his lips, yet…
Arandel Helvint, chin resting in his hand, watched Roengreen with an almost indifferent expression. In fact, the lack of visible interest struck deeper into Roengreen’s heart.
Clenching his teeth, the grip on his greatsword tightened. Despite years of contemplation and effort to solve the challenge before him…
He still couldn’t discern the answer.
“KRAAAAAAAAAA!”
Roengreen, as he often did, swung his greatsword at Isaac in a fit of frustration.
Though of the same crimson flow technique as Sharon’s, its size and density were incomparable. Its deep crimson hue might as well have been taken from the head of the Helvint family. But…
Isaac’s dual blades flashed.
Especially the blade in his left hand, Brikala, discharged mana like lightning.
PZZZZZZT!
The moment Isaac swung his sword, the restrained lightning surged out in all directions.
Crimson and lightning clashed.
A roaring, deafening boom erupted between them, causing a wave of dust to scatter like a tidal wave, momentarily obscuring the view.
Although the spectators cried out as their vision was obscured, it was clear who had won. Roengreen’s crimson flow technique had smashed the ground where Isaac had stood.
Did Isaac perhaps not survive?
Worries naturally arose in the minds of the crowd, but then…
KAAAAANG!
The sound of steel came from Roengreen’s direction. The dust settled, revealing Isaac swinging his blade at Roengreen.
Seeing this, Roengreen clenched his teeth.
“My Crimson Flow!”
There was no response.
Isaac, as if engaged in writing, was fully immersed in reading his next move in their battle.
“Just over one level higher.”
Though the output was incomparable to Sharon’s technique, the fundamental principles of the skill were comparable. With a blade saturated in mana, piercing it was no challenge for Isaac.
But people don’t praise the Helvints as the strongest for merely shooting crimson flows from a distance.
“Close combat with Helvint?”
“I wouldn’t dare to do that, if I were him.”
Sighs were heard around them. Dueling in close combat against the Helvint’s greatsword was akin to attempting to break rocks with eggs.
KAAAAANG! KAAAAANG! KAAAAANG!
It was anticipated that the clash of these two blades would soon come to an end.
“…Eh?”
“Hmmm.”
“Ho ho.”
But the exchange continued unbroken. Though Isaac’s sword clashed with Roengreen’s ceaselessly, the audience saw little chance of victory for Isaac.
To them, it looked like Isaac was aimlessly tapping on the shell of a turtle.
No matter how hard Isaac swung, Roengreen’s greatsword and his crimson technique showed no signs of breaking. To the audience, it seemed as if Isaac were simply being played with, an illusion confirmed by the smirks appearing on their faces.
Conversely,
“You damn—!”
Roengreen’s actions reflected a growing anxiety. Most of the audience couldn’t understand, but those who understood the art of the sword marveled at the situation.
Here stood a man dueling head-on against the famed Helvint greatsword.
A dangerous balancing act where one mistake would end it all. The fact that Isaac’s blade was swinging without pause meant only one thing:
Roengreen’s greatsword was unable to touch Isaac.
WHISTLE!
Again,
Roengreen’s greatsword carved through the air. This time, he was certain he’d struck true. Yet suddenly, Isaac had jumped up and countered with his sword.
KAAAAANG! KAAAAANG!
The crimson flow was a sharp blade but also functioned as armor. Isaac’s blade was blocked effortlessly, but the moment he landed, Isaac was moving again.
A timely retreat followed by another attack from Roengreen, yet it only cut through dust, achieving nothing.
“Haha! Look at that!”
“Poor guy just dodging around.”
“If you’re slower than the greatsword, that’s it. There’s no place for you here.”
“Phew, Roengreen’s at least giving this family name some dignity.”
Anyone could see that Isaac’s speed was slower than Roengreen’s greatsword. The physical prowess of the Helvints allowed them to wield their greatsword faster than Isaac. It seemed blatantly unfair.
And yet,
Roengreen’s greatsword could not touch Isaac.
“Heirad.”
In the center of the VIP seating, Clarice called to Heirad, who was set to face the second Helvint son in the next round. Her lips were trembling as she addressed him.
“Heirad.”
“…”
“Heirad?”
“Ah, yes! Princess!”
A response came only after being called three times.
“My apologies, I was so focused I didn’t realize.”
Normally, one might ask what was distracting him, but Clarice instead nodded, noticing his clenched fist, and returned her gaze to the duelists.
“The air feels strange.”
“…”
“It’s subtle. But the powerful ones, especially the Helvint knights, are all on edge.”
A sense of rising tension hung in the air, noted by Clarice.
“Galenia might be plotting something. If the Helvint knights ally with her, it might delay our plans, so prepare.”
Princess Clarice’s words were met with a bitter smile from Heirad. The princess, indeed, showed remarkable talent.
Especially now, noting the subtle changes in the air displayed her keen perception. However, either due to her young age or lack of experience, she often stumbled while drawing conclusions from gathered information.
“Princess, this isn’t about that.”
“Hm?”
“Because of you, I’ve seen and learned much more than most.”
“What’s with the sudden sentiment?”
“Regarding various swordsmanship styles, I’ve heard, studied, and practiced them all. But there’s only one that I haven’t.”
The princess’ eyes widened slightly. To her, it seemed absurd not to study the kingdom’s strongest sword.
In truth,
Many knights say there’s nothing to learn from the Helvint swords.
Specifically, from the mainline Helvints.
Because they’re useless to imitate.
“Their sword is not something that one can replicate or master simply by learning.”
Even the closest Helvint knights are clearly different from the mainline.
Their innate greatness.
This is why the Helvints are called great.
In fact, the current Roengreen displayed fragments of Arandel’s prowess. Realistically, within the kingdom, only a few could withstand Roengreen’s blade now.
The Great Helvint.
Born to wield swords and devoted to strength.
They were the knights’ object of admiration and the insurmountable mountain.
“Much ado about nothing. Even Helvint mainline members lose sometimes.”
“True, but…”
Those who have never wielded or studied the Helvints might not understand.
Defeating one of the mainline members doesn’t mean you’ve broken the Helvint sword.
For a moment, Heirad fell silent.
If he had asked other warriors around, they too would have hesitated to give an explanation.
“Perhaps… this scene is…”
But Heirad, by virtue of his position, could not ignore the princess’s question and strained to answer.
“Like witnessing a falling star.”
Clarice might not have understood, but if other knights had heard it, they would have nodded.
What they were witnessing now,
Just the sight of it sent shivers down their spines, causing cold sweat to bead on their skins.
This duel was a textbook.
There was no precedent—this Helvint-breaking manual in the making.
As if there were a definitive guide, it was teaching everyone present.
The Festival of Swordsmanship was meant to herald the greatness of the Helvints.
And in the center of that place, now…
‘Our idol is falling.’
The steady and mighty greatsword of Roengreen wavered under continuous attacks, eliciting gasps and admiration from the spectators around.
Naturally, questions arose.
Who was the person pulling down this godlike sword?
He was at the heart of the great assembly.
More specifically, he was the Helvint family’s son-in-law.
And before that, he was an idle odd-job worker.
But if one delved into deeper, more secret times…
Known as the “Silent Sword,”
He was a teacher who imparted lessons to countless strong warriors.
Today, before everyone, the Silent Sword inscribes another volume.
Revered as a deity, immortal,
The Great Helvint.
But in truth,
The Helvint family does not represent divinity,
Nor immortality.
It’s surmountable.
And thus it was demonstrated.
